Finally, when she was ready, they departed to take their breakfast in the banquet hall, as usual. Esofi had a feeling that Crown Princess Adale would be waiting for them there, as she seemed eager to win Esofi’s forgiveness for reasons that were not entirely clear yet.
Her instincts were correct. Upon entering the room, Esofi’s focus went to the spot beside the seats where Their Majesties would sit. Adale was waiting there, looking slightly on edge. It was a stark contrast to her waiting lady, who was all but asleep. When Adale saw Esofi, her entire face brightened.
Esofi took her usual seat on the other side of the table, next to where Queen Saski would sit. The room was not quite crowded yet, but she knew it would be very soon.
“Esofi—” began Adale. “Princess, did you receive—?”
“The basket? Yes,” said Esofi evenly, ignoring how her ladies glared.
“Oh,” said Adale. “Well. Did you like him? Because if you didn’t—”
“I did,” Esofi replied. “Very much.”
“Oh,” said Adale again. “Well…good. I’m glad to hear it.”
Esofi gave a small nod.
“Would you be willing to walk with me today?” asked Adale. Lisette gave a soft growl at the suggestion.
“Perhaps I would,” said Esofi. “However, I have agreed to visit the Temple of Adranus today, and cannot yet say if I will have the time.”
“Please,” said Adale, surprising Esofi with the quiet desperation in her voice and her face. “Just an hour. Or less. Half an hour. I just—”
“Very well,” said Esofi, deciding to be merciful and cut off Adale’s babblings. “But no more than half an hour. I cannot be late.”
At those words, Adale looked as though a weight had been lifted from her, but before she could say anything more, the doors opened and King Dietrich and Queen Saski entered the hall. All conversation ceased as Their Majesties took their seats, and the servants hurried out to serve the meal.
“Princess,” said Queen Saski in a pained voice. “We were so disappointed to hear you had fallen ill last night. I sent a healer, but your waiting lady turned him away. I hope you are better today?”
“Yes, I believe so,” replied Esofi. “I was just telling Adale that I hope to visit the Temple of Adranus today. I have heard such…curious things about it.”
Queen Saski seemed reluctant to acknowledge her own daughter, as though she was afraid that Esofi would interpret it as Saski supporting Adale’s actions of the previous day. Esofi did not comment on it, however, and kept the conversation light and cheerful, if not a bit strained.
Several times, Saski did attempt to steer the conversation in the direction of the betrothal, but Esofi was ready for her.
She only had to point at a random dish on the table and ask, “What is that called?” in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone in the room, and the subject would immediately turn to the dish, its history, and which region of Ieflaria made it best.
Esofi knew she could not put off the signing of the marriage contract forever, though. Sooner or later, Their Majesties would require her to name a day.
At long last, the meal came to an end. The servants emerged again to clear the dishes away, and Esofi waited until they were done before she rose and walked out of the room at a lazy, unhurried pace. Adale seemed not to know whether she ought to approach her or wait to be summoned. In truth, Esofi was not sure what she preferred.
The day seemed to be fair, and so Esofi began walking in the direction of the gardens. Adale hurried to meet her pace so that they were side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against each other for the briefest of moments. The footsteps of her ladies sounded behind Esofi, their presence simultaneously reassuring and irritating.
The gardens, fortunately, were not crowded just yet, though Esofi had a faint suspicion that some of the nobles and servants hadn’t decided to venture outside until they’d seen the princesses leaving. Court life was the same, no matter the country. It was almost impossible to ever be truly alone.
“I wanted to apologize properly,” said Adale at last as they walked through an avenue of hedges. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I swear I did not ask Theodoar to challenge you.”
“But you asked him something,” said Esofi, pausing in her stride.
“I didn’t…” Adale stopped walking as well. She looked defeated. “No. You are right. I did. I just…I never thought that he would bring you into it.”
“How could that be?” questioned Esofi.
“I thought we would just be able to leave without calling any attention to ourselves,” explained Adale. “Just…slip away in the night.”
Esofi pressed her lips together.
“It wasn’t because of you!” cried Adale. “Please, even if you don’t believe anything else I have to say, at least listen to this. I do not find you unappealing.”
“Then why?” asked Esofi.
“Ieflaria does not deserve me.” Adale shook her head. “And neither do you. I could not make you happy, and I certainly would not make a good queen. I thought perhaps you would be engaged to someone more suitable in my place, someone who could give you what you needed.”
“Why are you so certain that you wouldn’t?” asked Esofi.
Adale shrugged. “I know myself. There’s no sense in lying. You told Theodoar that he was a child, that he was selfish, and…and all those other things you said. I am no different. If anything, I am worse.”
“Do you not believe you have the capacity for change?” asked Esofi.
“I do not know,” admitted Adale. “When I think of ruling, I feel sick. I can’t breathe and all I want to do is run away because one wrong decision could ruin everything for thousands of people, and I’m very, very good at making wrong decisions!” Her voice broke on the last word.
“You don’t think I’m not afraid too?” asked Esofi softly. “To be afraid to rule a nation is not cowardice. It is common sense.”
“But you’d do it anyway?” asked Adale.
“It is my responsibility,” said Esofi. “Perhaps things work differently in Ieflaria. It seems only the eldest siblings strive to be worthy of their titles, while the younger ones are allowed to spend their days in idleness. It is as though you are unaware what could befall—” She stopped short, horrified, as she realized too late that Adale knew all too well what could befall a firstborn.
But Adale shook her head. “No. You’re right.”
“I did not mean—” Esofi began.
“You’re right,” Adale repeated firmly. “We’ve been fortunate. We haven’t had a plague in ages. We haven’t fought a war since we declared independence, and that was hardly a war at all. We’ve had so many people blessed with Eyvindr’s magic that we could probably salt our fields and still get a good harvest. The dragons have been a problem, but we don’t usually lose our heirs, and the nobility has been prosperous enough that they can afford to let their younger children run wild. Things were good for so long that I think we forgot it could be any other way.”
Esofi looked at her searchingly. “Why did you not run when you had the chance?”
“I can’t explain it,” said Adale. “It’s just…the duel, and you, and my cousins, and… I’m so terrible at explaining myself. I must seem like a babbling child.” Adale pressed her hands to her forehead. “Where to even begin?”
Esofi said nothing.
“I suppose…the night before the duel. When I met you after the hunt. I wanted to tell you then that I was leaving, and you could marry one of my cousins instead. But when I saw you, I couldn’t. And so I left it to Theodoar. And of course he…” Adale shook her head. “I love him, but he is such a fool.”
Esofi swallowed. You love him? She wanted to ask, but she did not. Those were questions for Lisette’s mouth, not Esofi’s.
“You must understand. I wasn’t raised the same way you were. I always thought I would be allowed a say in who I married. The idea of an arranged betrothal is frightening to me, even now.”
“But you are a princess!” Esofi was incredulous. “Making an advantageous marriage is one of your responsibilities—one of your apparently very few responsibilities.” Esofi knew she was being rude, but Adale didn’t seem to mind the insult.